


Life Is Like A Song

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m not pregnant, Stiles.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“But—” Stiles hesitates before carrying on.  “You know you could be.  If we wanted.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Is Like A Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubykatewriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubykatewriting/gifts).



> oh look I wrote mpreg. huh.
> 
> thanks to [Sas](http://saspiesas.tumblr.com/) for looking this over! any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> title from Etta James - At Last.

It starts so small, Derek doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. He finds himself bringing bedding downstairs during the day when Stiles is at work, curling up with blankets, pillows, and his laptop, writing from his little nest. Stiles doesn’t say a word; he simply weaves his way into Derek’s nest when he comes home and rests his head on Derek’s lap, staring up at him with a contented smile. The blankets never lose the smell of _derekandstiles_ , even after they’ve been washed, and sometimes Derek sits there for a while, soaking it all up.

He’s been sitting on the floor with his head on a pillow when Stiles comes home. “Hey.” Stiles strips off his tie and shirt, kicks his shoes off and crawls into Derek’s nest. Resting his head against Derek’s bare chest, Stiles strokes a hand down Derek’s side. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” Derek curls his arms around Stiles, erasing the scent of strangers that always covers Stiles when he comes home.

“It’s to do with this whole nesting thing you’ve got going on.” He strokes his fingers against Derek’s stomach, scratching his nails through the hair above the waistband of Derek’s sweatpants. “I—you remember when Allison was pregnant?”

“I’m not pregnant, Stiles.”

“But—” Stiles hesitates before carrying on. “You know you could be. If we wanted.”

Derek’s hands go still on Stiles’ skin for a moment, manhandling him until he can examine Stiles’ face up close. “I thought you didn’t—”

“I never said that.” Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek and shrugs, the corner of his lips twisting into a wry smile. “I needed time. When we started this, when we—. Look, I was always going to be in this with you forever, I was always going to want kids with you. But _making_ our own? Our actual half you, half me kids? I needed a little time to come to terms with the idea that it was even possible.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Stiles sits up, wriggling a little, the blankets tangled between them as he runs his hands up Derek’s chest, the tips of his fingers against the hollow of Derek’s throat. “Now I’m pretty excited about the idea.”

“Yeah?” Derek smiles, cupping the back of Stiles’ neck and tugging him down. His eyes are wide as their lips brush together, Stiles’ hand slipping to the floor.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, kissing Derek softly. “Let’s make a baby.”

*

Morrell shuts the door to her office and opens a drawer, removing papers and the false bottom to pull out a metal box. “You’re both sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, fingers linked with Stiles’, his touch providing a calming balm. “We want this.”

“Good.” Morrell smiles and opens the box, the lid clanging against the table when she puts it down. Before she takes anything out, she looks at Stiles and frowns. “You’re aware that this isn’t guaranteed to work, yes? Even with Derek being a born werewolf and your spark, it may not take?”

“We know.” Stiles’ hand squeezes Derek’s as he looks over at him. “We want to try.”

Morrell nods and starts to take jars out of the box, occasionally stopping to scribble down instructions on her notepad. Tearing the sheet off and folding it in half, she puts it and the jars in a paper bag and hands it to Derek. “Good luck.”

*

“What does it say?”

Derek turns the sheet of paper with Morrell’s neat script on it over in his hands and looks over at Stiles fiddling with the jars, his long fingers tapping out a pattern on the lids. Shaking his head, Derek reaches out and grabs Stiles’ hand, tugging him closer and letting out a contented sigh when Stiles leans into him. “It seems simple enough. A teaspoon of the green, a pinch of the yellow and two teaspoons of the grey powder, all dissolved in salt water.”

“That sounds disgusting.” Stiles wrinkles his nose and glances at the powders with a raised eyebrow. “Rather you than me.”

“That’s very supportive. Do you want me to change my mind about doing this?”

Kissing the Derek’s temple, Stiles slides an arm around his waist, stroking warm fingers against the dip of Derek’s hip. “I love you for doing this.”

“I know.” Derek rests his head on Stiles’ shoulder, the soft touch of Stiles’ fingers soothing his nerves.

“Do we have to do this at a specific time?” Stiles asks, running his eyes over the instructions.

“Whenever we’re ready. I have to take the mixture before we fuck.”

“How long before?”

“At least ten minutes.”

Stiles makes a thoughtful noise and strokes the back of Derek’s neck, smiling when Derek turns into him and licks at the underside of Stiles’ jaw. “Tomorrow?”

Nuzzling at Stiles’ neck, Derek nods. “Tomorrow.”

*

“Is it really gross?” Stiles asks.

Wincing, Derek chokes the mix down and tries to resist throwing up. “Tastes like that casserole Allison made on Scott’s birthday. This baby better be cute.”

Stiles settles on Derek’s lap, his supple legs wrapping around Derek’s hips, and kisses his nose. “It’s you and me, it’s gonna be stupid cute.”

Derek smiles at him before curling his hands around Stiles’ waist and tugging him closer, their noses rubbing together. “You think so?”

“Hell yeah.” Stiles presses their mouths together in a soft kiss, his tongue darting out to lick at Derek’s lips. “Lie back,” he mutters with a smile. “Lemme put a baby in you.”

“Romantic.” Derek smirks, lying back on the bed, Stiles still on his lap. Slipping his fingers underneath Stiles’ t shirt, he traces the scar on Stiles’ left side; Derek knows the mark as if it were on his own skin, remembers the sounds Stiles made when the knife went in, how the scent of hospital clung to his scent for weeks after he was released. It’s been four years and Derek will never forget how close he came to losing the one person he’d die for. The one person who makes him want to live each and every day. Derek doesn’t know if he’s even meant to forget something like that.

“I lose you?” Stiles touches Derek’s chin and smiles when Derek shakes his head. “Good, because if you want romance, I’ll romance your ass off, baby.”

“Don’t use the words ‘ass’ and ‘baby’ so close together when you’re trying to knock me up.”

Stiles stops in his explorations of Derek’s chest and smirks. “Did you really just say that?”

“Apparently,” Derek says, his face scrunched up at the implications.

“You’re cute.” Slotting his knees either side of Derek’s hips, Stiles leans over him and nuzzles his face against Derek’s neck, wet tongue licking up the skin. 

Groaning, Derek’s hands tug at Stiles’ shirt. “Take this off,” he says, grinning in triumph when Stiles sits up and strips it over his head. Sitting up, Derek greedily runs his hands down Stiles’ warm skin, grazing his fingertips across the various moles scattered on Stiles’ body. He dips his fingers in the waistband of Stiles’ pants and licks Stiles’ collarbone, the salty taste flooding his mouth.

When he bites down, Stiles grips Derek’s hair and it’s like a bolt to his cock, something in his body switches and he can’t stop the whine that falls from his lips. “I need— _Stiles_.”

“What? What is it?” Stiles loosens his grip, fingers threading through Derek’s hair softly. “I got you.”

“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” Derek lifts his head to meet Stiles’ eyes, overwhelmed by the desire and lust coming off in waves off Stiles. It’s _never_ been like this, he’s never needed to get fucked this much and if he weren’t so desperate, if it wasn’t _Stiles_ , Derek would almost be embarrassed by how much he wants it.

“Yeah.” Stiles licks his lips, nodding his head quickly. “Yeah, I can do that.” He slides off Derek and starts to strip his clothes off.

Derek sheds his clothes, dropping them over the side of the bed and laying back down, stroking his cock a few times while watching Stiles shimmy out of his boxers, a little twirl of his hips that has Derek laughing. “Come here.”

Grinning, Stiles clambers back on top of Derek, his cock hard between his legs. Cupping Derek’s face with one hand, Stiles kisses him slowly, thumb stroking against Derek’s beard as their lips press together. “Lube?”

“In the drawer.”

Smacking his lips against Derek’s forehead, Stiles reaches into the drawer and pulls out the almost empty tube. Raising his eyebrows at Derek, Stiles smirks. “You gonna lie there and make me do all the work?”

Stretching out his legs, Derek nods, his foot grazing Stiles’ thigh. “You got a problem with that?”

“Did I say that?”

“Seemed like you were complaining is all.”

Stiles shakes his head and settles between Derek’s legs, urging Derek to bend his knees and place his feet on the bed. “About having you spread out like this? Spread out only for me? So we can make a baby? No way I’m complaining about that.”

“Gonna do something while you’re down there?”

“Ass.” Stiles kisses the crook of Derek’s knee and flicks the lube open, drizzling some on his fingers. “Something like this?” he says, teasing a finger around Derek’s hole.

“Stiles— _fuck_.” Derek sucks in a breath when Stiles’ finger pushes into him, the sensation making his brain go blank. Stiles’ free hand trails against the inside of Derek’s thigh sending shivers through Derek’s body. He rubs against the soft skin, brushing the hairs against the grain.

When Stiles has worked his up to two fingers, Derek wriggles impatiently, groaning when Stiles chuckles. “Patience, Derek, patience.” Stiles ducks his head, his wet tongue dragging a lazy line up Derek’s cock and it’s all Derek can do not to grab Stiles, flip them and ride Stiles for all he’s worth. But then Stiles is working in a third finger and the thought flees Derek’s brain as he pushes down against them, rolling his hips and whining for more.

Something in the mix has sent his body into overdrive; he’s choking on the scent of his own lust, almost pre-verbal with need and his mouth drops open, no words able to come out. Stiles gets it, knows what Derek needs and it doesn’t take long before Derek feels the blunt pressure of Stiles’ cock at his entrance.

Derek can’t tear his eyes away from Stiles; the way his eyes flutter as he pushes inside Derek, mouth parted as he bottoms out and Derek reaches for him, curling himself up until he can pull Stiles down so they’re face to face, breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles’ voice is low, his pupils blown wide, the flush on his cheeks driving Derek insane. “Every time. Every fucking time.”

“Yeah.” Derek butts his forehead against Stiles’, brushing their lips together. “Me too.”

Stiles takes it slow, his cock a heavy drag inside Derek, and Derek’s sure he’s losing time as Stiles fucks into him. The heat flooding his body reaches new heights and his cock is _aching_ , leaking between them as Stiles kisses him, teeth grazing against Derek’s bottom lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

It’s the sudden feeling of a spark inside him that forces a gasp out of his throat; Derek can _feel_ the change inside him and he knows almost instantly that this is going to take, that this is going to work

Stiles drags his mouth across Derek’s nose, a beatific smile on his face as he pushes in again. “You feel that?”

“Uh huh,” Derek stutters out.

“You want me to do this, want me to breed you? You want to carry my kid? Have my hands on your rounded stomach when it kicks?”

And it’s those words falling from Stiles’ lips that sends Derek over the edge, letting out a sob as he comes without being touched. A smile spreads across Stiles’ face as he continues fucking into Derek, hips stuttering while Derek clings to him, his fingers digging into Stiles’ skin. Biting down on Derek’s chin, Stiles pushes in one last time and then he’s coming, his mouth open against Derek’s skin.

Derek can feel it inside him and he holds Stiles close, not letting him pull out. “Stay,” he whispers, lips pressing against Stiles’ forehead, an exhausted smile on his face when Stiles nods.

*

There’s no doubt in Derek’s mind that he’s pregnant. He can feel it in every cell of his body, can sense the way his body is changing and making it possible for him to do this, for him to carry his cub.

When Stiles gets home from work, he curls up against Derek on the couch and reaches a hand out to touch Derek’s stomach.

“There’s nothing to feel, yet.” Derek kisses the top of Stiles’ head and places a hand over where Stiles’ is resting.

Turning his hand over to link their fingers together, Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand and nods. “I know. But there’s something in there. Something that’s us. Some of me and some of you in a whole little package.”

“We’re seeing Morrell tomorrow, right? You got the day off work?”

“I did. Are you sure—you don’t want to see if we can track down Deaton?”

Derek shakes his head, detangling his hand from Stiles. “I don’t trust him.”

“Okay.” Lifting his head from Derek’s shoulder, Stiles leans in and presses his lips against Derek’s cheek, travelling across his skin until their mouths meet in a lazy kiss.

“Melissa will help if we need it,” Derek says when they part. “But I don’t think—I’ll have to shift to wolf form to have the kid. It’s instinct.”

“I know.” Stiles brushes a finger across Derek’s brow. “I trust you,” he says with a simple smile that Derek returns.

*

Despite having known that Derek’s pregnancy will be shorter than a human one, it’s not until Stiles starts spending half his time looking at baby stuff on the internet that Derek realises it hadn’t really sunk in. Admittedly, booties and cribs are probably more wholesome than what Stiles used the internet for as a teenager, but Derek’s getting sick of Stiles being so attached to his damn iPad.

“Hey.” Stiles looks up, frowning at Derek as he makes grabby hands for his iPad, his bottom lip automatically going into pout mode and it takes all of Derek’s will not to duck down and kiss the pout away.

“I’m putting this away.” Stretching to reach the top of the bookshelf, Derek puts the iPad away. Nodding in satisfaction, he turns around and frowns when he sees the glazed look on Stiles’ face. “What?”

“You—” Stiles waves a hand in Derek’s direction. “There’s a bump,” he says in awe. “You have a bump.”

Raising his eyebrows, Derek moves swiftly over to the couch, kneeling on the cushions. “See what you notice when you take your eyes away from a screen?”

“You have a bump. Your stomach, it’s—we’re having a baby.” Stiles is curled up in the corner of the couch, not blinking as he stares at Derek.

“Stiles?”

“We’re having a baby.”

Derek nudges Stiles’ leg with his hand. “Are you broken?”

“We’re having a baby.”

Moving closer, Derek shoves his sweater up and takes Stiles’ hand, placing it directly on the curve of his stomach.

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathes out, his fingers flexing against Derek’s skin, his nails catching on the hair that trails down to Derek’s crotch. “There’s a baby in there.”

“Cub.”

“Whatever, it’s ours. We made that.”

“Yeah,” Derek says softly, fingers stroking the back of Stiles’ hand. “We did.”

*

Derek’s splayed out on the couch when Stiles gets home, the bump finally too big for him to move around comfortably. There’s an itch under his skin and it’s getting worse by the day.

“What’s the matter, big guy?” Stiles picks up Derek’s feet to sit down, placing them on his lap and starting to rub them, his fingers pressing into the arch.

“Restless,” Derek groans, his eyes closing. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

“Want something else?”

Derek cracks an eye open and looks down his body at Stiles. “Like what?”

Running his hand up Derek’s bare leg, Stiles shrugs and scratches Derek’s thigh. “A hand job.”

“Oh.”

“Interested?”

“Are you expecting a no?”

“You might be feeling delicate,” Stiles says with a wicked grin.

Derek snorts, reaches around his belly and pushes his boxer shorts down, exposing his rapidly hardening cock. “Really not.”

“I can see that.” Stiles shuffles up the couch, keeping Derek’s legs draped across his lap, and smacks Derek’s hand away. “Let me.”

Settling back against the pillow he’s got wedged against the arm of the couch, Derek lets Stiles take control. Stiles always knows what to do to get Derek worked up, his fingers are fucking magic on Derek’s cock; rolling Derek’s foreskin back and teasing a finger around the head. Derek’s hips buck up as Stiles forms a loose fist for him to fuck into. With the bump in the way, Derek can’t see what Stiles is doing, he can only feel and the anticipation makes his mouth water.

“Enough of that.” Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s hips firmly, and he doesn’t have a hope in hell of actually holding Derek down, but that doesn’t matter. Derek obeys, a whine forming in his throat, but then Stiles starts jerking him _perfectly_ , his free hand slipping down behind Derek’s balls, pressing firmly against his hole and Derek—he’s coming, legs twitching as Stiles strokes him through his orgasm.

When Derek comes out of his haze, Stiles is laughing. “What?” he asks, his voice rough.

“There’s come on your bump.” Stiles looks up at him, his eyes bright with amusement. “We’re terrible parents. Terrible, terrible parents.”

Grazing his knee against Stiles’ chest, Derek shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Damn straight.” Stiles leans over and kisses the bump, lifting Derek’s legs up. “Stay here, I’ll clean you up.”

“You don’t want anything?”

“Later.” Stiles smiles down at him, stroking a hand against Derek’s hair. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep.”

“I owe you an orgasm.”

“As if I’m going to forget that.”

*

“How long until she makes an appearance?” John pokes at the steaks on the grill, nodding his head in satisfaction when he deems them cooked enough for him and Stiles. Derek’s already chewing on his, only wanting the outside a little browned. He’s been craving raw meat for weeks now, and the baby always wriggles whenever he eats it, which makes him happy. She’s doing it now, the tiniest little jig as he swallows the meat in his mouth.

“About four weeks,” Derek answers when he’s taken a long swig of his milk. “She’s getting impatient.” Absently stroking one hand over the stretched skin over his stomach, Derek leans back in his chair and smiles over at Stiles.

“Impatient, huh?” John slaps the steaks down on plates and hands one over to Stiles. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“I object to that,” Stiles grumbles. “I have the patience of a saint.”

“Kiddo, you were three weeks early.”

Stiles winces, his knife embedded in his steak and he glances at Derek. “For the record, she better not take after me. We’ve still got things to do before she gets here.”

John shakes dressing over his salad, protesting when Stiles snatches it away, and sighs. “That why you two got me over here?”

“Do you want to be a helpful Grandpa, or not?” Stiles asks sternly, putting the dressing on the other side of the table.

“I want to be a Grandpa who gets all the fun with none of the problems.”

“Help me set up the crib and you’ll have that when she’s born.”

*

Derek’s face is nuzzling at Stiles’ armpit when the twinges start. He’s been unable to get to sleep and eventually Stiles sprawled out half over him and closed his eyes, murmuring about how one of them should be sleeping.

“Stiles,” he whispers, his fingertips digging into Stiles’ back. “Stiles I think— _shit_. Stiles, wake the fuck up.”

“Wha? What—Derek?” Stiles lifts his head and twists around, blinking his eyes blearily.

“The cub. She’s coming.”

“Now?”

“No, a week next Tuesday. What the _fuck_ , Stiles?”

Rolling over, Stiles gets tangled in the blankets and falls off the bed. “Uh. I’m okay,” he says.

“I can’t believe I procreated with you,” Derek says, a fond smile on his face as he waits for Stiles to detangle himself.

Standing up, Stiles rubs his ribs and grins sheepishly. “Wanna go have a baby?” Holding a hand out, he helps Derek off the bed, and when Derek’s standing in front of him, Stiles ducks his head and kisses Derek’s stomach again and again. The touch of Stiles’ mouth on his skin instantly relaxes Derek and he rakes his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

When Stiles finally straightens up, he takes Derek’s hand and they walk across the hall in silence. Stiles lays down the plastic sheets over the mattress already in there and Derek slips out of his sleep pants. “Ready?” Stiles asks quietly, his fingers darting over Derek’s skin, coming to rest on the bump.

Derek nods, breathing deep as he closes his eyes, feeling his limbs start to shift, his insides twisting around the cub. When he lets out a breath again and opens his eyes, he’s fully shifted, his muzzle nosing against Stiles’ hip.

“You should do this more often.” Stiles fingers scratch behind Derek’s ears, his voice soft as Derek heads towards the mattress. “You’re incredible like this.”

Huffing, Derek lies down, the cub starting to get restless. He lets out a whine and lifts his head, fixing his eyes on Stiles.

“I’m here.” Stiles sits on the floor next to the mattress, his hands stroking along Derek’s fur, stopping when he reaches his swollen belly. “Hey cub,” he whispers. “You ready to come meet us?”

*

It’s flashes of pain, of stretching, tearing, and quickly healing, and then when Derek finally recovers, his head on his paws, Stiles is holding their cub. Her fur is black, like Derek’s, and she’s got patches of brown down her sides. Stiles’ eyes are wide as he holds her, her tiny mouth letting out a weak howl and Derek’s heart is pounding with fear and love and, holy shit, they _made_ her.

“Look what we did, Derek.” Stiles shuffles closer, putting their cub near Derek’s face. She smells like blood, like the gorgeous combination of them, and Derek wishes he had the energy to shift back because he wants nothing more than to hold her.

“I think she’s calming down,” Stiles says. “She should shift to human soon.”

Derek nuzzles her little body, his tongue darting out to clean her. He licks at her fur, getting rid of the blood and fluids Stiles hadn’t been able to get off her. She’s letting out little whimpers, moving her head around to try and rub against his and Derek _melts_ , lifting his head to look at Stiles.

“You gonna change back?”

Derek huffs at Stiles and, with one last lick to the cub, he shuts his eyes and lets his instincts take over. As soon as he’s back to human, Stiles tugs him off the mattress and onto a blanket on the floor. Derek really needs a shower, but Stiles holds him by the chin and kisses him softly. It’s grounding and Derek sighs into it, listening for the steady thud of the cub’s heartbeat that’s already imprinted on his brain.

“What are we going to name her?” Derek mumbles in a rough voice, picking her up, her paws tiredly batting at his hands. Rubbing his cheek against her fur, he inhales her scent, kissing her muzzle and grinning when her tongue slips out to lick his face.

“How about Mia?” Stiles runs a hand down her back and leans his head against Derek’s shoulder. “She kind of looks like an Mia.”

“She’s a wolf cub, how can she look like anything?”

“If you don’t like it—”

“I didn’t say that.” Derek nestles the cub against his chest, making sure she can hear his heartbeat, vague memories of his Aunt doing the same with his cousins when they were born shifted.

“Oh,” Stiles says quietly, his hand stilling suddenly. “Look at her.”

She’s shifted to human and she’s so tiny that Derek automatically tightens his grip on her. There’s a tuft of dark hair on her head, and she’s got Stiles’ nose which she’s wrinkling adorably and Derek’s heart clenches. “Yeah,” Derek swallows. “Mia.”

“She’s so small.” Stiles brushes the tip of his index finger along her arm. “Smaller than I thought she would be.”

“She’s perfect.”

“Tired?”

“I did have a baby today.”

“Yeah you did.” Placing a kiss against Derek’s temple, Stiles carefully lifts Mia up and settles her against his chest. Her hands form fists against his skin and Derek watches her mouth open and close, her tongue sticking out occasionally.

“She’ll need feeding soon,” Derek yawns, not taking his eyes off her. The sun is barely up, pale streaks coming in through the window and spiralling patterns across the floor. “She’ll let us know.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, kissing the top of Mia’s head. “You gonna be loud like your daddy? Or all stoic like your papa? You’re a wolf, obviously, so you’re going to be a little loud because you’re going to howl, and get your teeth into things, but when you start killing baby animals that’s your papa’s problem. You and me will find our own thing.”

Derek lets Stiles’ voice wash over him as he carries on talking to Mia, her little gurgles mixing in and giving Derek a new kind of comfort. “You can teach her how to make pop culture references in every situation.”

“Laugh it up. You’re changing her first diaper.”

“I gave birth to her.”

“How long are you going to use that?” Stiles grins at Derek. “Because you can probably use it forever, she’s kind of perfect.”

“She’s ours.” Derek nuzzles at Stiles’ neck, ducking his head and doing the same to Mia. “Of course she is.”


End file.
